


Magic in the Arms That Hold (Drunk a Lot of Drink Me Remix)

by orphan_account



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Angst, Genderbending, Het and Slash, M/M, Oral Sex, Porn With Plot, Tony Stark Has Issues, dubious knowledge of infinity gems, magic is the worst, steve rogers is a darling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-06
Updated: 2017-04-06
Packaged: 2018-10-15 19:53:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,690
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10556776
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: “Well, I hope you’re not expecting me to use magic to spice up our sex life,” Tony said.Only that's easier said than done with Asgardian artifacts lying around. Natasha Stark is pretty sure she's what Steve needs. Steve is pretty sure they all need to lay off the wishful statements.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Cluegirl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cluegirl/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Drunk a Lot of Drink Me](https://archiveofourown.org/works/722257) by [Cluegirl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cluegirl/pseuds/Cluegirl). 



> @Cluegirl, I'm not even sure if you remember the thread on imzy, but I acutally did the remix! All the apologies for taking 4 months, but here it is! I hope you like it.  
> Thanks to @chibisquirt for cheer-reading and support! This wouldn't exist without you checking up on me <33

Steve lifted the cowl from his face and noted valkyries posted on the eaves of Stark Tower. He’d never seen them dressed for war before, in sunlight raiment fortified with steel, and it hurt to look at them for too long. Among those flocked indoors was a familiar face; her silver hair was tightly braided and tucked into regalia this time, but even without photographic memory, Steve would be hard pressed to forget someone who had turned him into a woman and dumped him in Tony Stark’s bed.

“Steven,” she greeted him like a streak of lightning. “I trust you have been well.”

“I’m getting by,” Steve replied, politely, but not warmly enough to invite a conversation right this minute.

The lady, who was not quite a rank and file valkyrie, smirked back at him, wry and unapologetic. “I had hoped to see you again, but you do not have revels anymore.”

“We’ve been busy.”

“Oh?” she raised an eyebrow and followed Steve’s gaze to the proceedings in the middle of the room. Thor was there, and Iron Man was too, in charge and unbearably efficient in his element. “Then, I trust you are happy.”

Steve felt his jaw work, and he bowed his head in homage to a smile. “I am,” he admitted. “But if it’s all the same, I’m going to be drinking much less at parties now.”

The goddess laughed softly. “Glad to hear it,” she said and they settled back into companionable silence, each keeping an eye on their respective charge.

“Are you sure about this?” Tony was asking.

Steve glanced sidelong at Thor and then back across the lab where Bruce was doing some final checks on a containment chamber that was supposed to house the Mind Stone. But since they hadn’t found Loki’s Scepter, Tony had graciously offered it up after their resident demigod returned from his musical worlds adventure with the Aether.

Well, gracious was probably too generous a word. Tony was looking at the Aether with troublesome excitement, and Steve found himself resisting the urge to frown reprovingly.

“We have no choice,” Thor rumbled, but he didn’t look pleased. “Power invites conflict, and two infinity stones together in Asgard is proving to be far too much of a temptation. My Father agrees the Avengers can be trusted to look after it.”

“Oh, we won’t disappoint,” Tony quipped. He smiled at them from the other side of the forcefield, expression all distorted. “You’re not going to find better security anywhere else. Look, I know it’s not Asgard--”

“But it will do,” Thor finished impassively. “For now. This is only a temporary measure until we are able to locate another to whom we can entrust the Aether.”

“Take your time, big guy,” Tony replied. “JARVIS’ll keep it company until then.”

“I would advise caution, Stark,” Thor said. “I do not know the extent of its power, but of your curiosity, I am well aware.”

“Well, I’m an engineer,” Tony shrugged. “We’re born to pry. But I promise you that I won’t directly mess with the magic infinity ball.” He held up his little finger. “Pinky promise, if you want the full monty.”

Steve didn’t know what he was expecting from Thor— a sigh, maybe, or more godly warnings— but he had to admit, he was tickled when Thor strode up to Tony and held up his own little finger so they could complete this pact of full monty.

 

-

Despite the presence of the usual crowd, there would be no party at Stark Tower tonight. Clint and Natasha were called away to SHIELD HQ and Thor left soon after, taking the valkyries with him, so there wasn’t critical support enough for one. Moreover, Bruce rendered the common room unusable by unapologetically settling down with a mug of tea, physics journals, and the tattiest set of pyjamas they’d ever seen.

Tony pouted about it. Steve, recognizing the signs of a man about to take unnecessary measures to kill boredom, set about hauling him upstairs for some fun. Tony managed to remain hands off for as long as it took for JARVIS to recognize biometrics and send the elevator zooming to the penthouse.

 

-

Steve pressed back into the bed, luxuriating in the feel of soft, yielding cotton sheets compared to the stiffer sheath of his uniform. Tony was busy between his legs, doing something with his tongue that was causing all sorts of incredible and electrifying ruckus.

Desperate not to thrust too soon, Steve arched his head against the pillow instead. Tony closed his mouth over the tip of his cock and easily swallowed the next few inches. The sight of Tony’s lips stretched around his length was enough to drive him wild. Steve bit his lip and urgently dragged his focus elsewhere, anywhere but Tony’s eager ministrations.

The bed sheets were pale gold; warm and familiar because it’s how they had been on that night, when Steve had woken up as a woman. There had been a lot more than wet heat and a small scrape of teeth that time. Memories flooded back, in fact, of the rough sensation of Tony’s beard down there, of his warm and clever tongue. They echoed this image of Tony going down on him right now and if Steve squinted, he could imagine the length and girth of his cock shrinking down once again to a trembling little spot with the power to make his whole body shake and beg for more. Tony would be happily enthusiastic about lapping at that spot, licking, sucking until he got it pulsing with need…

Steve groaned. He let his hand slip from Tony’s hair and down the rough plane of his cheek, and circled his jaw until he reached the space behind his own balls.  _ Oh. _ It wasn’t the same, but it was there nevertheless. Steve pressed his fingers down and gasped when a familiar sensation ignited. He chased it with another stroke and another and another until his orgasm took him by surprise. Tony’s throat moved obscenely as he swallowed the offering; Steve could feel it against his own wrist as he relaxed the hand between them.

Steve was still a little boneless when Tony dragged his mouth off his dick with a small, cheeky kiss to the tip. Instead of getting down to the next phase, Tony rested his elbows on Steve’s splayed knees and looked down at him curiously.

“Do you miss it?” he asked. “Being a woman?”

Steve snorted. “One sex act doesn’t count for an entire experience of womanhood, Tony.”

“Oh, fine,” Tony rolled his eyes. “Do you miss having sex as a woman?”

Steve stared at the ceiling, thinking. “I don’t miss it,” he decided. “I remember it fondly. Obviously, it was nothing like I’d experienced before and you—“ Steve stroked a thumb over Tony’s bottom lip. “—you were amazing.”

“You’re welcome,” Tony smiled smugly just before he threw himself into bed next to Steve. He draped an arm around his chest and cuddled close. “But really, spill. What’s up?”

“Nothing’s up,” Steve replied. “I just…I’ve got the memory, clear as video, and I think about it sometimes. That night was something, really. You were so good at...everything, and I wonder what it’s like.”

“You want to go down on a lady?” Tony asked, tone deceptively breezy. “Hey, if that’s what you want, I’m sure I can arrange—“

“Tony!” Steve cut him off reproachfully. “I don’t…I don’t want you arranging anything. And why would I even when I have…?” He gestured at their current state of embrace.

Tony shrugged. “There’s a whole world of sexual experience out there. Don’t feel you have to limit yourself on my account.”

“It’s not about that, either.” Steve replied, perhaps a little more abruptly than necessary. “I don’t want an exotic experience. I only wanted to reciprocate.”

“Oh, trust me, you do,” Tony said pointedly. “You distract me. Steve, do you know how hard it is to distract me?”

Steve laughed, but whatever Tony saw on his face caused him to go subdued. “But it’s not the same. I get it.”

“You probably do,” Steve agreed. He nudged them over so he was spooned tightly against Tony’s back, and kissed the dark hair against his neck. Encouraged by the dim light and coital warmth, Steve confessed, “I never spent time around women like you did. It was difficult back then, and even now, it’s hard to look at a dame and know what to do with ‘em, much less... I mean, the only woman I really dreamed about was Peggy and—“

Steve stopped when Tony wiggled fitfully, thoughts derailing fast at the brush of his willing body. “—and that’s a story for when we’re not naked.”

“Agreed,” Tony said, relieved. “But you know you don’t have to give up, right? On your… _ fuck, Steve! _ —on your dreams?”

“Wouldn’t be here if I gave up,” Steve pointed out in between sucking a mark on the back of Tony’s neck while reaching around to explore the swelling between his legs.

“Well, I hope you’re not expecting me to use magic to spice up our sex life,” Tony said. It came out as a helpless moan when Steve licked soothingly at the patch of skin he managed to bruise in record time.

“Wouldn’t ask,” Steve replied, and finally closed his hand around Tony’s cock and set about making him come in earnest.

 

* * *

 

Tony woke up at midnight. His feet took him to the lab before his brain could comprehend what was going on. Numbers were scrolling across the holoscreens, power levels were surging, but JARVIS remained strangely unalarmed. The Aether was stirring in its container, and if Tony didn’t know better, he might have thought he’d woken it up.

“J, you getting this?” Tony asked, almost absently because, of course, JARVIS was. He peered through the forcefield and into the container, murmuring, “What’s wrong, dear? Can’t sleep?”

The Aether roiled, restless and red.

Tony nodded solemnly. “Yeah, me neither. Although, you’re stuck in my lab while I’ve got a very handsome super soldier in bed, so I guess I don’t have an excuse.”

Data began filling the holoscreens in neat rows, most of it gibberish, but there was a spike that didn’t escape Tony’s notice. It happened when he spoke to the Aether. Was it listening? The fine hairs on his neck and arms stood at the thought. Speech recognition was far from sentience, but as long as it was under his roof…

And anyway, Thor couldn’t say anything if all Tony did with his alien power ball was have a lovely conversation.

“Yeah, Steve’s kind of perfect,” Tony continued, watching. “He’s taking this whole waking up in the future thing like a champ—like, who for the most part is all, ‘Keep Calm and Carry On’ after something like that? Really makes you feel for him.”

The readings grew copious. JARVIS sorted them as fast he could, but Tony kept his eye on the Aether as he rounded the forcefield. For a formless, ominous mist, it felt a lot like it was keeping its own eye on him, too.

“And the 40s, what a time, huh?” Tony quipped. “Steve’s the kind of timeless good that fits in any decade, but I can see how he might get nostalgic sometimes. For the old dream—a nice house, a wife. Couple sprogs running around.”

The readings spiked pretty significantly this time. Tony raised an eyebrow, still riveted on the frothing cloud of black. It should sound more ominous than it did, but he was a scientist and all he felt was the urge to prod. “Something I said, J?”

“Perhaps, sir,” replied the AI. “The spike in activity seems to correlate with you speaking in a hypothetical sense.”

Tony paced a circle around the containment chamber. “Ooh, you like it when I tell you about my hopes and dreams?” he teased, somehow uncaring that he was doing it to an artifact that almost destroyed the universe. “You like hearing about my deep, dark fantasies?”

Another burst of data. This time, JARVIS sounded a wee bit sarcastic when he said, “That appears to be an affirmative, sir.”

“Well, let’s get depraved,” Tony shrugged the kinks from his shoulders. “What was I saying? Oh, right. Steve. A wife and kids. Ok, confession, since I’m already talking to a magic ball of alien matter: I want Steve to be happy. Really. Only, not without me…?”

No sooner than the words came out of his mouth, Tony folded his arms defensively across the ARC reactor and blamed it on a rogue chill in his temperature controlled lab. “There. Depraved, right? But in my defense, I don’t know about kids, but I’d make a pretty kickass wife.”

The Aether sizzled. Despite himself, Tony was mesmerized. Talking to it felt unburdening, like it was really absorbing his anxiety with each word.

Somewhere in the background, JARVIS warbled. “S...sir.”

JARVIS never warbled. Tony made a note to check on that later, but for now, the Aether needed his attention.

“Sir,” JARVIS insisted in broken tones again. “Virus detected. I’m--shutting down. Network connectivity.”

Tony almost always recognized a red flag when JARVIS pointed it out to him, but somehow, nothing seemed to matter now except the Aether. It was accompanied by a soft susurrus this time. Tony only meant to take a step forward to listen. He was careful not to touch the forcefield, but when he stepped up, the Aether stepped up until a pinpoint of its darkness was in line with the tip of Tony’s nose. The susurrus grew louder and louder, and then the whole room lit up in red.  

-

At breakfast, Bruce nearly dropped his tea and stared. Quite rude of him, but reading the news these days did that to a guy.

It only became apparent that the news wasn’t the issue when Steve walked in and also stopped in his tracks. Unlike Bruce, Steve stared tactically. His gaze travelled from head to toe, sweeping up intelligence along the way.

“Something on my face, Cap?”

“You see it too, right?” Bruce asked Steve. “I’m not losing my mind?”

“I don’t think so,” Steve replied, frowning. “Tony, what happened?”

So many ways to answer that. Their lives were weird enough nothing should come as a surprise, but somehow, it seemed neither Bruce nor Steve were prepared for, “Who is Tony?”

-

“Ok, let’s start off easy: what is your name?”

“Bruce, you know my name. You cashed enough checks signed with it.”

“Humor me.”

“Oh my god, you’re serious. Fine. My name is Natasha Stark.”

“Natasha…” Bruce echoed, and raised his eyes to trade a glance with Steve, who was behind the bar in the kitchen proper, furiously cooking breakfast. “That’s, uh…OK.”

“Natasha Antonia, if you want the full monty. My friends call me Tasha.”

Bruce dithered. “And are we friends?”

Tasha curled her lip. “Hanging by a thread, buddy.”

“Right,” Bruce considered. “Where are you from, Tasha?”

“I’m from right here,” Tasha replied peevishly. “This is my Tower, or did you all forget?”

While Bruce remained annoyingly unfazed, Steve, who was a darling, placed an unnecessarily large plate of breakfast by her elbow. His eyes were sharp when she met them, but he was worried. “What do you remember?” he asked.

Tasha immediately grabbed the plate and wolfed down a forkful of eggs. Damn, but she was hungry. It must have been one hell of a party, or...wait—

“There was no party last night,” she informed them accusingly. “Bruce just caught up on his reading, and you--”

This time, she grinned around a bite of sausage. “I stand corrected, you and I definitely had a party.”

Steve blushed faintly at that, but it didn’t stop him from pressing on. “And what else? How come we found you in the lab?”

Tasha shrugged. “I must have gone down to check on some things.”

“Do you remember what?”

Tasha rolled her eyes. “Oh geez, again?” After a well-aimed glare at Bruce, she shrugged. “I was checking on Thor’s infinity ball.”

“Why were you checking on the Aether in the middle of the night?” Steve demanded immediately.

“Because it’s what I do, Steve!” Tasha snapped. “We go to bed, have fantastic sex, and then sometimes, I check on shit in my lab! My husband, of all people, should know this!”

Steve audibly gasped. Tasha could see the fight drain out of him, which was never a good sign on its own, and certainly not when combined with Bruce’s eyebrows looking like they were trying to escape his head. The physicist scrubbed a hand through his messy curls, muttering, “Oh boy.”

Tasha dropped her fork with a loud, satisfying clatter on the plate and glared at them both. “What is wrong with you two?” she demanded, frustrated at being left in the dark. “Did you hit your head? Is Loki back?”

“No,” Steve replied. “But, Ton--Natasha, we…” he glanced helplessly at Bruce. “We aren’t there, yet.”

“Where?”

“We didn’t marry.”

Tasha felt the hairs on her neck stand on end. Steve was serious; distressed, but clearly serious. Behind him, Bruce peered over his interlaced palms to observe them. “We’re not married?” Tasha pulled at a curl of dark hair by her ear. “Wow, Steve, I gotta say, this is a pretty elaborate scheme just to ask for a divorce.”

Bruce immediately took the opportunity to slide off the bar chair and excuse himself. “You know what, I’m gonna try to contact Thor,” he informed Steve. “Um,” he glanced worriedly between Tasha and their resident super soldier. “I’m gonna...I’ll just. I’ll try to be quick.”

In spite of everything, Tasha appreciated how calmly Bruce managed to walk away for someone who clearly wanted to bolt and never look back. Of course, that meant she was left alone with Steve and the fact that everything she’d come to take for granted was crumbling at its foundation.

Or was it? Watching Steve stare fretfully after Bruce’s retreat, Tasha tried to remind herself that he was incorrigible, not an asshole, but any hint of a doubt chafed like nettles. She and Steve had hurt each other, more than once, and they’d done it without the convenient aid of a magic ball…

Tasha jumped off the barstool as if by moving, she could dodge her unease, and walked over to Steve. “Ok, babe, what’s going on? Let me in on the prank…” she traced her fingertip over the hard plane of his chest. “I’ll make it worth your while.”

“Not a prank,” Steve replied. “Serious, if I was married to a girl like you, do you think I’d deny it even in my dreams?”

“Are we dreaming?”

“I don’t think so,” said Steve, and placed his hand atop her’s. “But we’re not wearing rings, either.”

Tasha pulled away. Her finger was indeed bare, and the sense of wrong was back. She wondered once again if Steve was right, and once again, the mere thought felt viscerally offensive.

“We regularly fight super crime,” she reasoned. “I’ve seen you with a punching bag, a ring would be bent out of shape in no time. And you know, the lab also isn’t a safe environment...”

The skeptical look on Steve’s face didn’t inspire much confidence. Tasha dragged a hand through her hair, racking her memory for something to say. “A safe!” she said finally. “The one in my suite; I promise you our rings are there!”

Tasha swept into the elevator before Steve could say anything and pressed the button to her suite. Nothing happened except for JARVIS informing her in serene tones that she wasn’t authorized for the access she was asking for. Disbelief washed through her veins like ice water. Since when was she not an authority in her own home?

“What the hell, JARVIS!?” she growled at the adamantly noncompliant control panel. “It’s me; it’s Tasha fucking Stark—let me up!”

‘I’m sorry, madam,” came the reply. “Your alleged surname indicates perhaps you are a relative of Mr. Stark, but none that I have a record of. I must regard you as a guest.”

Alleged surname? Mr. Stark?  _ A guest?? _ Where she had been numb with cold before, Tasha suddenly felt her blood boil. The thought of someone tampering with JARVIS cut somewhat deeper than her husband and friends’ pranks. Tasha made a frustrated noise and took her anger out on the tech by jabbing at the elevator buttons savagely. It was insanity, but damned if it wasn’t doing wonders.

She barely noticed when Steve slipped in beside her. Not until he stilled her hands with his huge ones and said, “Here, let me.”

He pressed the button to his suite and the elevator accepted his fingerprint without complaint. Tasha scowled.

Steve’s palms came to rest on her shoulders like a warm weight, holding her from flying apart as the elevator zoomed up to his room. “Hey, it’ll be ok,” he said, and for all that she was supposed to be mad at Steve for whatever he was playing at, it was all Tasha could do to keep from burrowing further into his arms.

“This is insane,” she groaned. “You and Bruce, and now JARVIS--Steve, I can’t…”

“I know,” Steve replied. He seemed content holding her close until the elevator doors opened to his suite. It was clean, but obviously lived in, which sent another wave of unease through Tasha. They hadn’t slept separately in forever.

Steve guided her to a nearby couch. “Sit,” he ordered gently, and took a seat beside her when she complied. His arm didn’t leave her back. It was still there; still warm, heavy, and one might even call it protective. Unfair how it offered a reprieve from the rest of the chaos she’d been unlucky enough to wake up to today. For a moment, she dared hope that Steve would actually admit the whole thing was a prank and they could all go back to living their normal lives doing— _ what did they do on a daily basis, anyway? _

“Listen, I think I understand what’s happening,” was what Steve said instead. “I mean, I know what it’s like to wake up somewhere new, and nobody is who you think they are.”

Tasha glanced up at him sharply, but Steve only looked sad. Doubt threatened to prickle at her again, so she cleared her throat and said, “I was there when they found you in the ice. I mean, that’s a thing that happened, right? Or was it a dream, too?”

“It happened.”

“But you’re not my husband?”

Steve’s throat moved. “Uh, no. We didn’t get married.”

Tasha felt a horrible sting behind her eyes. “Y-you’re really sticking to this, huh?”

“It’s not—” Steve began, but something on her face caused his expression to crumble. Tasha suspected it was the few tears she couldn’t blink back in time. It only got worse when Steve reached for her and said, “Tony…”

“Who the  _ hell _ is Tony?!” Tasha slapped Steve’s hand away and viciously squirmed out of his space. Ignoring the ache that followed, she demanded, “Why are you doing this?”

“Because as of twelve hours ago, you were him,” Steve answered honestly. “Listen, something happened to you in the lab. I don’t know what, but it probably had to do with the Aether, and Bruce and Thor are going to figure out how to fix it. Ok, please, can you—”

Tasha narrowed her eyes. “Don’t say calm down, Rogers, I  _ will _ lose it.”

Steve nodded and held his palms up placatingly. “I was going to say, check the internet. I found it pretty helpful, after the ice.”

-

The internet dug up a few notable Natasha Starks in the northeast part of the US: a lawyer in Manhattan, a Boston based author, a model for an indie clothing brand. None of them were Tasha.

It wasn’t until Steve typed ‘Stark Industries’ into the search bar that everything began to look familiar. Only in a right track, wrong train kind of familiar. Instead of Natasha, ‘Tony’ glared at her from every headline, every article, and even the cesspools that passed for comment sections.

_ Tony Stark introduces this. Tony Stark discontinues that. Tony Stark is _ —

“Iron  _ Man _ ?” Tasha groaned loudly and tossed the Starkpad away. “Why am I so mad at that?”

Steve, who took expensive things more seriously than she did, caught and laid it gently on the arm of the couch. “I’ve been where you are,” he said.

He smiled wistfully when Tasha glanced up. “I woke up as a woman once. Apparently, I made a wishful statement and an Asgardian took it seriously.”

Tasha snorted. “So, what happened? You walk into breakfast and think you were hitched to Sam or something?”

“No,” Steve replied. Because, of course, he didn’t. “I kinda woke up in your bed...or Tony’s bed, I guess?”

He checked for her for a reaction and Tasha merely nodded. “How did that go?”

“Well.” Steve fidgeted in the way he did when he wanted to express something, for once, but didn’t know how to say it. “I was a bit disoriented, I mean, obviously, ‘cause it was my first time in a new body. Technically, my second time, because Rebirth, right? But my first time in a woman’s body, so I did some recon and—”

In spite of everything, Tasha found herself laughing. “ _ Recon? _ ”

“Hey, it was new territory,” Steve defended himself. “I was missing parts, got a few new ones that were a lot more sensitive than I was used to. Point is: it helped.”

“I bet.” Tasha snickered, and received a mildly reproachful nudge for her efforts. Her smiled faltered as another flash of memory struck. She slipped behind a curtain of her conveniently long hair and asked, “Did we sleep together? When you gender flipped?”

“Yeah,” Steve replied evenly. “It was unexpected in a good way. So good that I actually thought it was a dream. We got together properly after that.”

Tasha wondered if he knew he was smiling. Leaning against the arm of the couch, Steve’s entire body language was indulgent and soft, like he was home and was happy to share it with her. Something tugged in her chest at that. Her body seemed to move on its own accord and she reached out to cup his cheek. Faint wonder turned to thrill when he turned instinctively to kiss her thumb when it wandered too close to his lower lip.

The intensity that drew her to him was almost too much to handle. Tasha wanted nothing more than to swing her leg over to straddle Steve’s lap and kiss him breathless, but Steve, who seemed to know where a body was going to go before it knew itself, straightened and took her hands. He looked at her seriously from behind those long, long lashes.

“I think you should look around,” he advised.

-

In Steve’s spacious bathroom, Tasha stood before the mirror in her underwear and let her fingers ghost over some pretty serious scar tissue radiating from the ARC reactor. Sharp little pings of  _ something wrong _ went off in her head so often that it was almost like background noise, because like two mismatched transparencies laid on top of each other, she was having a hard time reconciling a broader, more bristling mental image of herself with the narrower silhouette staring back.   

But even with dark hair tumbling over her shoulders and rearranged curves, it was easy to find Tony among them. He was in the shape of her mouth and the tilt of her head. Their big brown eyes looked more at home on a feminine face, but were still softer than what suited Howard. Tasha inhaled sharply and focused on her chest instead--or what was left of it. The warped skin looked even worse curled around the swell of, yep, breasts. The right one intact insofar as she recognized the pattern of freckles around the nipple, but the left one was pretty much done for.

Tasha barely held back a wince looking at it, which was troubling in itself. If this is who she’d always been, something as mundane as her own reflection shouldn’t come as a surprise. And yet, damned if she could recall a mastectomy.

She gripped the edge of the sink and exhaled slowly, feeling vaguely unmoored.

Behind her, Steve cleared his throat. She had almost forgotten about him, but he was there when she whirled around, and didn’t at all seem fazed when she glared at him to hide her quickening heartbeat. Tasha didn’t miss the way his gaze lingered on her chest. Suddenly self conscious, she grabbed the shirt and turned around to cover up.

“Wait, don’t—” Steve began, then stopped. “I mean, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

He didn’t do anything, Tasha thought wistfully as she jammed her arms into the tanktop. When her mangled chest was back under wraps, and the ARC reactor was once again a muted glow behind dark cloth, Tasha folded her arms and leaned back against the counter. It was cold against her bare thighs.

“So,” she sighed at Steve’s stupid, kind face. “I’m entertaining the idea that I am under the influence of something.”

“The Aether.”

Tasha winced. “Fine, the Aether.”

The admission didn’t stop a pang of visceral discomfort. This time, she was aware enough to know it was probably how the Aether retained its influence on her, but it still hurt.

“I can’t remember when we got married. Or where. Or any other details that you’d think would matter.” Tasha cast an apologetic look at Steve. “It’s a movie set reality. Sorry I freaked out on you.”

“Hey, you’re going through some stuff,” Steve offered.

Suddenly, the goosebumps along her arms were being chased away by a delicious warmth. Steve’s palms covered a lot of skin, slid from her elbows to shoulder. Tasha didn’t resist when he pulled her head to rest on his shoulder, but she did wonder how much of this luck came from the Aether.

“You were there for me,” Steve was saying. “When I woke up in my other body that one time, you were there. You took care of me...and it was a very good night, but I always knew it wasn’t going to last. I didn’t want it to.”

Steve paused, and Tasha felt the circle of his arms waver. “But if you do,” he continued softly. “If you want to keep this body, we don’t have to call Thor.”

Tasha shook her head. “No,” she said to the soft cotton of Steve’s shirt. “I don’t hate it, but it’s not  _ mine _ . I’m getting memories, bits and pieces still, but I’m not mad at Tony anymore. Or Iron  _ Man _ .”

That got a laugh out of him. Tasha felt the vibrations in her own chest, and the longing returned.

“Like I said, you were there for me,” Steve said. “And I’m going to be there for you, too--whatever you want us to be.”

The questioning uptilt in Steve’s voice was...touching. Tasha selfishly remained in the embrace while she thought. Caught in the midst of unspooling reality was a bit much for anyone, but if anything about this felt right, it was Steve and the way he said ‘us’.

Did he ever say it like that to Tony? Or was this another tragic favor from the Aether? Tasha heaved a sigh when Steve’s body shifted against her’s. It was perfectly big and warm, and entirely too much.

“I hate magic,” she groused, and smirked when Steve grumbled agreeably in return. “But I like you.”

“A lot,” Tasha added when Steve pulled away to cup her face and look into her eyes. The sight of so much summer blue triggered something—someplace cold, that smelled hot and incendiary. Space, and the sensation of falling.

It had been dark, for a very long time. Then a roar, ripping through the silence, and the same blue eyes looking down like they’d woken from a bad dream. They went from pained to laughter bright in a flash when Tony sucked air into his lungs and gasped, “Please tell me nobody  _ kissed me _ .”    

What a subtle man she was, Tasha thought first, followed by,  _ fuck it; always kiss Steve. _

And Steve didn’t resist. His arms circled her waist and pulled her to tiptoes, so she was helpless in the best way. It gave her the final push she needed to scramble for his shoulders and climb him without shame.

Her legs wrapped tightly around marvelously trim hips. Steve groaned softly and ducked down to kiss her neck. Tasha caught sight of them in the mirror, and made a throaty noise of her own. They looked fucking hot together.

Another strip of reality peeled away; more memories slipped in. This time, she was astride Steve—Sarah, he called himself because the name fit this new body of his, but Tony wasn’t fooled. Only one person ever looked at him like that, with the kind of admiration usually reserved for people who were timelessly good. Only one person ever drove him to pull out all the stops because as happy as Tony could make anyone, he could make Steve happier.

Tasha gasped like she’d been punched in the gut. All of a sudden, she felt completely adrift in the face of all the memories, in the  _ history  _ of snarls and smiles and soft looks that didn’t belong to her. She was an intruder, a false skin spun by a reality altering mist to be a consolation prize for Steve Rogers.

“Tasha?”

She flinched at the voice, and her eyes, when she opened them, were wet. Quickly letting Steve go, Tasha turned away to a convenient juncture between the vanity and wall, vaguely aware of him following up to touch her shoulder. Tasha breathed through the sudden grief in her chest, but the telltale sniffle gave her away.

“I fucked up,” she said to the wall. “When I was checking up on the Aether last night, I started talking to it. I should have stopped, but I didn’t.”

Steve sighed, not unkindly. “You made a wish.” he said, and Tasha supposed she had. Or Tony had, because to be what Steve needed, he couldn't also be himself. And it was turning out as well as expected.

“I wanted you to have a family,” Tasha admitted miserably. “You deserve to be happy, but I didn’t want you to leave me.”

“Why would I leave you?” Steve asked, startled.

“I…” Tasha sighed, throat closing.

The vanity creaked as Steve maneuvered his body to curl up behind her. He slung an arm around her hunched form while he chose his words, then said, “Did you know, after the ice, you were the first person I saw? I mean, really saw? SHIELD recruited me, but Iron Man fought beside me first.”

Tasha smiled wanly. She didn’t turn, but nosed at the powerful forearm coiled over her shoulder. “I seem to remember pissing you off.”

“You made me see you,” Steve corrected. “Everyone wanted Captain America, but nobody seemed to know what to do with Steve Rogers. I didn’t either. I couldn’t get out of my own head, but you—you wouldn’t take second place.” He paused, lifted a lock of black hair. “Then, you saved the city from a nuke.”

Tasha let him turn her over this time. Steve tugged at her folded arms like he was unfolding a precious manuscript and kissed her palms. “Then, you gave me a home.”

Steve let her palms slip and planted his hands on either side of her thighs. “Then, you gave me someone to come home to.” He leaned down to kiss her, sweet and languorous and in no hurry to stop. “So, whatever you think I deserve, whatever you think I need, I already have it.”

Tasha inhaled sharply. Words tripped over her tongue, like each one wanted to be the first to tell Steve he was so wonderful, but so wrong all at once.  “Steve, you don’t...”

“Of course, I do,” Steve finished, and for a paradoxical moment, Tasha felt both deliriously afloat and satisfyingly anchored.

Instinctively, she opened her arms and widened her legs to let Steve in. A dreamy, tingling warmth bloomed where he slotted himself against her inner thighs. Steve was still kissing her; he chased a path down her throat and nuzzled along the top of her cleavage.

He’d get to what he wanted soon, and she wouldn’t want to stop him for all the riches in the world. But for now, Tasha cupped Steve’s jaw, keeping him from seeking the true swell of her breast just yet.

Her heart fluttered at the consternation that flashed across his eyes.

“Bed,” she commanded hoarsely.

Steve, proving that he could be an obedient little soldier when it suited him, complied.

-

Tasha hit the bed with a soft gasp, legs instinctively parting to let Steve climb between them. He leaned down to kiss her again, and Tasha took advantage of the position to rub up against hard, warm muscle.

Steve’s hands hovered over the top of her chemise soon enough, fingertips lit by the telltale blue light that slipped over her sternum and into the well at the base of her throat. Tasha met his eyes, and one silent conversation later, she nodded.

Steve was more reverent than gentle. He kissed every inch of skin laid bare as he lifted the chemise until it was over her head and he could toss it away. Then, he kissed the ridge of scar tissue on her breastbone, followed the warped flesh until Tasha could feel his breath on the nipple of her wounded breast. There was only a ghost of sensation when Steve closed his lips around it. Tasha made an impatient noise.  

“Don’t get me wrong,” she informed Steve when he looked up. “I rock a mean sideboob, but that one doesn’t have much going for—oh!”

Tasha couldn’t help it; Steve took his act to her other breast to much better results, and he probably knew he wouldn’t take her by surprise like this again, but damned if he didn’t look fucking  _ pleased _ at her response.

“Sensitive?” he asked, and the rough edge to his voice pleased her immensely.

Tasha huffed. “Get on with it, soldier.”

And Steve did. He closed his lips around the hard swell of her nipple, the incredible heat making her shiver, and applied a hint of teeth just to ratchet up the pleasure.

Tasha groaned, arching up off the bed as heat travelled fast to her groin. “Fuck, you are good at this.”

Steve hummed wordlessly and pulled off her with a sigh. He bent down again to kiss her. His hand came up to replace his mouth on her breast—and  _ oh god _ , she needed those marvelous fingers somewhere else, stat.

“Here,” she panted against his mouth just as she grabbed his hand and dragged it south. Steve let her take him there, continued kissing her until Tasha settled his fingers on the crux of her body, and immediately assumed control when she let go.

Firm strokes drew shivers and a litany of whimpers. Tasha felt her hips twitch even more uncontrollably when Steve broke their kiss to lift his body and create enough space to really get down to business. He leaned on one elbow, nearly on his side, as his thumb searched out a spot that was ravenous for attention--

“Holy shit!” Tasha’s eyes snapped wide open at the sudden and fierce jolt of pleasure wrung out of her. “That’s new,” she babbled. “That’s definitely new, like—no, Steve, don’t ever stop—but  _ Jesus _ ! I did not see that coming!”

Above her, Steve gave a soft, giddy sort of laugh and stroked her two more times. It felt eager more than expert. Like he wanted to show off what he knew. “Yeah, that was my favorite, too.”

Tasha grinned and arched up to meet him. “You’re enjoying this,” she accused warmly. “Brave new reality, and I still only theoretically know what’s going on down there.”

“Oh, you know more than you think,” Steve replied. Settling back on his knees in one fluid motion, he hooked the hem of her underwear and abruptly tugged her it down, and who had time to be shy about sudden exposure when Captain America went lust dark?

He dragged his fingers through the copious slickness coating her sex and inner thighs, seemingly fascinated by it. The look in his eyes took her by surprise only by virtue of triggering another memory. This one was so vivid that Steve seemed to morph in front of Tasha’s eyes. She was Tony, of course, tangled with Sarah and coaxing that willing body to open up, confoundingly overwhelmed with how badly he  _ wanted _ ...

Tasha wanted Steve, too, and Steve was only happy to oblige. She barely had a moment to stop him with a palm to the crown of his head when Steve slid down between her legs.

“Not till you get naked, big guy.”

Steve looked like he wanted to protest, but Tasha shook her head. “Come on,” she said, and let her legs fall further apart. As a treat. “All this’ll still be here.”

Knowing when he was defeated, Steve got up and swiftly pulled his shirt off, and  _ wow _ . Tony had better have been appreciative of this guy. But Tasha was Tony was Tasha, so it was probably safe to say he was. Steve rolled his jeans down his thighs next, along with his underwear, though it took a leering “All of it, babe” from Tasha to get him to pull it off his legs.

And god, he was perfect. Steve looked as hot as Tasha felt, cock fully hard and dripping precome, but he was ignoring it. His attention was back on her. Tasha whined softly when thick fingers returned to rub her—clit, it had to be—and her whole body lurched.

Impatiently, she curled her leg around Steve’s waist and nudged.

“You’re so beautiful,” Steve said, somehow managing to go all silly and smiley even as his cock twitched.

Tasha felt her chest flutter. “Yeah, I bet you say that to all the dames who, until this morning, used to be fellas.”

Steve laughed and kissed her knee. “No, just you, sweetheart.”

Tasha wanted to laugh, too, but she seemed to have misplaced her breath. “You know, you do it for me too, handsome,” she said instead, and wiggled her hips.

The switch was instantaneous. The last vestiges of that silly smile barely faded from Steve’s lips, and he dragged her towards him by her thighs. Taking advantage of the serum in ways Erskine probably never intended, Steve slung one of Tasha’s knees over his shoulder like so much washing, and hoisted the other over the crook of his arm.

Tasha whined, low in her throat, as her body followed his course. The first touch of Steve’s tongue along her slippery wet folds was to die for. It rattled the windows of her reality again, these discoveries about a body that was supposed to have been her own from the beginning. But Steve explored her leisurely, dragging his tongue through the slick, up until he reached her swollen clit again.

Steve sucked at it in short bursts, his five o'clock shadow scraping electrically over parts of her skin that weren’t wet. Tasha thrashed among the sheets, breath short from pleasure and the blood rushing to her head. Thank Pepper for insisting on those yoga lessons or this might actually be dangerous. Somewhere in the haze, Steve shifted minutely. He raised the arm that wasn’t supporting Tasha’s leg and looped it around to replace his tongue on her clit. Said tongue wandered back down, and Tasha whined giddily when Steve dipped into her sex and  _ licked _ .

The pace that began slow and studious turned brisk. She couldn’t see Steve’s face, but at the rate he was going, he was going to make her come just like that. A super soldier’s stamina was probably up to the task, Tasha thought wildly.

It was. Minutes passed, and Steve kept up a maddening pace that would have collapsed a normal person. Tasha herself was close to cursing at the contrast between soft, hot tongue and the scrape of Steve’s stubbled jaw against her. God, what a jaw. Tasha couldn’t help but grab what she could of his short hair and  _ pull  _ until she was shamelessly riding his face. Moans spilled out into the air, and Steve gave in willingly. His fingers followed the same determined purpose, rubbing down on her clit, harder and faster until they slid over a miraculous edge and Tasha suddenly shrieked. Her thighs tightened around Steve’s body and she convulsed against his mouth as she came.

It was as if her whole body was electric, open and ready to light up the world. For all that he did the hard work, Steve looked ecstatic, like she was the best thing he’d ever seen and this was the best thing he’d ever done.

“That was amazing,” she said, and Steve, Steve just laughed.

“Sweetheart,” he replied in a tone that should have made her very, very suspicious. “it was only your first.”

Sure enough, Tasha felt slick digits prodding at her folds again. The pressure was gentle still, but it wouldn’t take much at all for them to slip inside her. She whimpered softly at the thought and Steve’s brilliant blue eyes peeked over her pelvis.

“If you want to stop, we can stop,” he said, like his fingertips weren’t covered in her copious fluids; like her channel wasn’t fluttering with want of something firmer and surer than his tongue. “But if not…”

Tasha lifted her hips. “If not, then what, Rogers?” she demanded. “Don’t keep a dame in suspense now.”

A glint manifested in his eye, sharp against the blue and full of delectable promise. Things moved fast after that: Steve slipped one finger in and then another, exploring her with regular, effective strokes until gasps turned to mewls, then turned to drawn out moans. By the third finger, Tasha’s body woke up to the impending madness of another orgasm. She writhed in Steve’s arms, which hadn’t stopped supporting her any more than his fingers or tongue relented in pleasuring her.

Tasha screamed abruptly when he licked her clit again, a million over-sensitive nerve-endings railing against so much stimulation. “Steve,” she called to him shakily. “Faster. You have to..have to go faster, babe.”

Steve obliged. Tasha clutched desperately at the sheets and pushed back against the fingers pumping inside her. This time around, her climax built slowly, but surely—each thrust, each lick, each needful noise from Steve’s throat as he felt her clench and release dragged her further to the edge. Then, Steve bared the edge of his teeth to her hypersensitive sex and pushed her right over. Tasha howled and sobbed through her second orgasm, clenching hard around Steve’s fingers.  

He dragged her to the edge of the bed for the third, so her thighs wrapped possessively around his head and shoulders. The sight alone was enough to make her arch off the bed, but he teased her through this one, too. He licked her into a dizzying height, then pulled away to lave attention on her hips and belly, gleefully grinning as Tasha wordlessly cursed him and all his descendents. Her hands tangled in Steve’s hair, never sure if she wanted him to stay or get away from her tender parts. In the end, she let him stay; held onto him so tightly that Steve’s pale skin bruised while drew the orgasm out of her like a precious prize.

There were neither tongue nor fingers for Tasha’s fourth. Not on the down-belows anyway. Steve returned his attention to her healthy breast again, sucked on it hungrily while she took her time, rubbing up against the hard, jutting plane of his hip. This orgasm was subdued, but it was one nevertheless. Steve bit her nipple as she shuddered through it. Tasha grit her teeth and pulled his hair.

“Are you even fucking tired?” she demanded when Steve sat up again, fresh as goddamn daisy.

“I can do this all day,” he replied with a mirthful huff and Tasha honestly didn’t know what  _ else _ she expected. She was tired herself, but not as much as she expected her forty year old, cardiac patient-self to be. Apparently, her desire to please combined with Steve’s one-track quest to turn her mind to mush left no room for such mortal limits.   

For her fifth orgasm, Tasha straddled Steve’s lap. He was fully aroused, but his cock remained a hot, hard length nestled under her rather than inside her. Palms on his chest for leverage, and legs obscenely spread, Tasha slid over the tip of his dick experimentally. It dipped, briefly, into the notch among her slippery folds and caused them both to moan. Steve gripped the side of her thigh to keep from thrusting up, up into what he must be craving the whole time.

Tasha certainly didn’t help by shifting her pelvis and whispering, “It’d go right in, Steve, don’t even need prep...just slide it right in, babe.”

Steve’s cock twitched. Tasha felt the warm rush of precome against her thigh and came with a soft whine, just at the filthiness of it.

“M’sorry,” Tasha slurred. Her limbs were too shaky to hold her up anymore, so she flopped bonelessly down on the bed and closed her eyes through the aftershocks.

Steve helpfully pushed away the clumps of hair sticking to her face and blew cool air over her fevered skin. “Don’t apologize. That was fun, though, right?”

Tasha opened one eye, and in spite of herself, felt her lips pull into a smile matching his stupid, schoolboy grin. “You get off?”

“I’m alright,” Steve replied, batting her hands away when she weakly groped about below his waist. “Don’t worry about me.”

“You? I can’t believe I’m passing up on the chance to pop my cherry with Captain America.”

Steve hummed. “Virginity and Captain America are just factitious constructs, darling.”

“Oh my god.” Tasha pinched the bridge of her nose while Steve snickered to himself. Then again, Steve only became a giant dork in a place on contentment and safety, and how was she supposed to be mad at that?

Oh. Tasha took a shaky breath over the dawning realization that Steve found that place here, with her; that rather than seek release alone, he preferred to lay all his formidable size and strength in her more delicate hands so they could luxuriate in this afterglow together.  _ Together _ ; god, that word shouldn’t do the things it was doing to her, but the whole room seemed to glow and as contentment settled over her like a mantle, what body she was in didn’t seem to matter more than the way Steve draped himself over it because Tony told him, once upon a time, that he liked to cuddle.

“I think I love you,” she told him, fingertips ghosting over the fine hairs on his arm.

Steve paused in his ministrations. “Oh?”

“Scratch that, I know I do,” Tasha amended and turned so their eyes met. “And if guy-me says anything different, he’s a filthy liar.”

“Uh,” Steve blinked, and his lips twitched like he was unsure if he was expected to laugh.

“I’m serious,” Tasha insisted. “don’t let him mess this up.”

Steve’s brow creased sympathetically. “How about I just trust you?” he suggested. “Whatever you tell me when you switch back—”

Tasha groaned, petulant to her own ears. “Come on, you  _ know _ the way I am!”

“To be fair, the way you are is never what’s expected,” Steve replied, then he pushed himself laboriously up to his knees, though he made sure his hands trailed over the length of her body, grazing her collarbones plastered with damp hair, the peaked tops of her breasts, the shallow curves on her abdomen. A slight breeze cooled the sweat on her body when he sat up between her raised knees. “I mean it, though, you won’t fuck anything up.”

Steve looked down at her with that expression again, that look of monumental faith, which inspired her in the best case and at worst, made her feel like a fraud. This was important, however. This fragile understanding between them had to be preserved without falling victim to Tony’s penchant for destroying good things. To that end, Tasha opened her mouth to argue, but JARVIS chose that moment interrupt.

‘Captain Rogers,’ the AI said. ‘Dr. Banner has located Prince Thor and requests your presence in the lab.’

Fuck. Tasha closed her eyes in resignation, though her insides knotted in worry and an uncomfortable, sinking feeling of loss. Lucky girl, she thought, to have someone to miss after spending less than a day with him.

Steve tapped her leg gently. “You ready?”

“Yeah,” Tasha replied. She sat up, but instead of sliding off the bed, she crawled into Steve’s lap and kissed him again, so hard that he whimpered. “Think you can talk J into letting me record a message first?”  

 

* * *

 

 

Tony’s version of setting things right wasn’t as simple as waking up from a dream. Rather than a spell lifting like a pale shroud, this was more like complex surgery conducted by a dozen or so of Thor’s aunties and it involved a lot of tutting, cursing, and something called a soul forge.

The operation did result in Tony returning to the body he’d had for the better part of four decades. For better or for worse, his actual memories were intact and he was only able to recall the last few hours like a particularly vivid dream—that was good news. The bad news was that his body-morphing adventures were declared problematic and cost him custody of the Aether.

There was no arguing with Thor about it in the first place, then Steve chimed in with his undisguised aversion to all things Infinity, and the cause was pretty much lost right there. Still, as much as it pained Tony to see Sif and the Warriors Three pack the Infinity Stone up and march it out of the Tower, he was at least gratified by the amount of data JARVIS had managed to gather. Hell, he’d even triggered a reality altering event, so there was a promise of juicy analysis for months to come.

“Add the whole thing to my daily queue, J-man,” Tony said when the Asgardian contingent cleared out, with Steve and Bruce to see them off. “I want to look at it first thing.”

‘Filed, sir,’ JARVIS complied. ‘However, there is a message that was recorded during the event. Captain Rogers instructed that it be emailed to you with a request to watch it, quote, “as soon as you’re fixed”.’

Outside, there were telltale flashes of portals appearing. Tony dried his suddenly sweaty palms on his shirt and nodded. “Play it.”

_ “Hello Tony, this is Natasha Stark,”   _ T he woman in the video greeted him from Steve’s suite in the Tower. _ “Call me your curvy alter-ego. Trippy, right? Oh, and in case you were wondering—yes: they are fantastic.” _

Natasha pulled down her chemise and flashed the camera. Not to diminish his own foresight, Tony nodded appreciatively to himself.

_ “It’s not all fun and games,”  _ Natasha smoothed her top again and continued. _ “I had to get Steve’s ok to record this because JARVIS doesn’t know me, so I’m sure you’ll be looking into that. And speaking of Steve, who we’re definitely in love with…” _

Jesus. Tony sighed through his teeth.

_ “That’s right, I said love. And if Steve didn’t guess by how I woke up thinking I was Mrs. Captain America, I said it to him loud and clear, so you can forget about any shady backtracking, pal. _

_ In fact, take it a step forward and tell him yourself; once a week, maybe everyday. I know, we suck at this sort of thing, but if I pulled off the hard part, you can damn well follow through. Also, it’s Steve, Tony; don’t be the guy who fucked things up with  _ Cap  _ because you were  _ afraid _.” _

Natasha scowled into the camera, but in a beseeching sort of way that hoped her words wouldn’t go totally unheeded. Then, she shrugged. _ “Ok, remember: JARVIS. And that’s it, cut.” _

The hologram stilled. Tony flicked it to the side and Steve loomed up behind it, eyes following the diminishing image of Natasha. For a moment, there was nothing to do except stare at each other.

“Tony, it’s fine—,“ Steve began, just as Tony said, “She has a point.”

“Steve, if I just trusted that you know what you want for yourself, this morning wouldn’t have been a clusterfuck.”

Steve’s expression fell. “If I ever implied you weren’t enough…”

“No, it was me.” Tony interjected hurriedly. “I was the one who went and decided you settled for me.”

“That’s like saying we settle for the damn sun coming up every day,” Steve countered. “I might need you in some ways, Tony, but I want you, too. Why do you think you’re the only one in love here?”

“Jesus, Steve,” Tony swiftly rounded the desk and boldly closed the distance between them so he could kiss his lover. Steve settled his hand on the small of Tony’s back while kissing him in return and suddenly, in spite of what Natasha had said, it actually seemed like the easiest thing in the world to look him in the eye and say, “Of course, I love you.”

“Wow, yeah,” Tony stepped back, still holding on to Steve’s fingers while delight sort of…coursed through his whole body. “I love you. Shit, that’s twice already!”

Steve laughed, and there was nothing that looked quite as good as the tension draining out of his shoulders as they closed ranks again. “I love you, too, Tony.”

 


End file.
